


This Life

by waywardmoeyy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester Fluff, F/M, dean winchester x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2019-08-27 11:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16701610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardmoeyy/pseuds/waywardmoeyy
Summary: Another unsuccessful relationship reminds you that the hunter lifestyle wouldn't allow you to date just anyone.





	This Life

The entrance door of the bunker swung open and smashed into the wall with a loud clash. Dean leapt from his chair, letting out a startled yelp. Sam chuckled at Dean’s reaction. The older Winchester was always the jumpier of the two.  
Dean’s eyes followed you as you marched down the steps and walked towards them. “Hey, Y/N. You’re home early,” Dean commented lightly, continuing to follow you with his gaze as you blasted past them. You said nothing. Your navy blue mini dress had a small tear on the side and your knees were darkened with dirt. The clip in your hair was loose causing a few clumps of hair to fall into your face.  
Dean and Sam exchanged confused glances as you headed down the hallway to your bedroom. “Well, it was either a great night or a terrible one,” Sam joked.  
Dean stood there, silent. Concern filled his chest. He hated seeing you upset. And it was pretty unusual that you came home from a date with your boyfriend with a frown on your face. You usually danced down the stairs and chatted happily with the boys about your night.  
Tonight, something went wrong.  
Dean let out a deep sigh. “I’m going to make sure she’s okay. I think something’s wrong.”  
Sam nodded as Dean made his way to your room.  
You slipped off your dress and hurried into your favorite pajamas, a gray tank with the TARDIS on the front and royal blue sweats. The pain in your stomach hadn’t subsided since the fight. You weren’t ready to enter the dating scene again. You were sure that Grayson was the man for you. He was smart, successful, hot. You had celebrating your sixth month anniversary tonight, and apparently you weren’t getting a day more.  
Fuck.  
A knock at your door caught you off guard. “Come in,” you grumbled as you sat on the edge of your bed with your back to the door. You heard the determined march of Dean Winchester coming towards you, making your stomach turn even more. He was the last thing you needed right now.  
“Y/N, is everything okay?” he asked in his delicious, gravely voice. You rolled your eyes at the dumb question. Your arms and hands were covered in bruises and your hair was disheveled. Did it look like you were alright?  
You tensed as the hunter sat beside you on your bed. His large, rough hand traced over a bruise on your arm. “What the hell happened?” His voice was stern, almost angry.  
“Grayson and I, well…” You fought back tears as you tried to form words. “We got into a fight. He asked me what I did for a living. I always said I did private investigative work, which isn’t a lie. I thought tonight would have been a perfect time to tell him the truth.”  
Dean nodded in understanding. “How did he take it?” Another dumb question.  
You lifted your bruised hand, your knuckles were split and bloody. “How do you think?”  
“You punched him?” Dean gawked at you for a moment. “How did it get to that?”  
You closed your eyes and let out a deep breath. “I explained that I was an investigator of the paranormal. He asked me if I meant Casper and Bigfoot, and I said ‘kind of’. He laughed, asking if I was joking. I went on to tell him about Cas and demons, but he wasn’t having any of it. He said that I needed help and he was going to get me some.” You held your bloodied fist, tears finally breaking free and streaming down your cheeks. “He wouldn’t let me leave. So, I fought. At first, he had me. That’s when I punched him and left. I caught a cab a few blocks away and here I am.”  
You finally lost the last thread of fortitude you were holding on to and beginning to sob. You leaned onto Dean’s muscular arm with your face in your hands. He pulled you into him, swinging your legs over his lap. His free hand gently rubbed your thigh in an attempt to comfort you.  
“Hey hey, it’s okay. Just let it out,” the fearless hunter whispered into your ear. Something inside you buzzed at the soft words. Dean was never the emotional, comforting type. At least, not in the past. It was usually Sam who comforted you when you got hurt or upset during a hunt. Dean was the brute force, the rock. Now, he was your rock.  
“We were planning the future, Dean. I was going to get the hell out of this life.” You cringed as your words sank in. “I mean—“  
“Y/N, this is your life. I know we all secretly want the white fence and two point four kids kind of life, but once you’re a hunter that shit flies out the window.” Dean gently moved the hair from your face. “Plus, you thought telling Mr. Big Banker Man that Dracula and the Boogieman are real was going to go over well? Most people don’t even believe in angels and demons, let alone everything else hiding under the bed. He had no right to react like that, but it was also unrealistic to think he would take it well.”  
You nodded. He was right. What possessed you to think he would just jump onto the whole vampires and werewolves bandwagon? You bit your lip as you wiped the tears from your face.  
“I guess I’m just going to have to accept the single life.” You leaned your forehead onto Dean’s hard chest. “Plus, I don’t really think I could take any other job seriously. And I’m not really housewife material,” you chuckled against him.  
Dean lifted your chin with his hand until your faces were inches apart. “Well, I wouldn’t say all of that is true.” He smiled as he kissed the tip of your nose.  
Where was this coming from?  
Your face froze in shock of the hunter showing a very foreign side of him. You weren’t complaining, he was definitely helping. A lot.  
“And what is that supposed to mean, Mr. Winchester?” you teased.  
He smirked as he pulled your lips to his. He captured your bottom lip between his as his thumb caressed your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed, your body flushing with emotion.  
Dean slowly pulled away, that famous smirk still painted across his lips. “Fuck white fences.” He huffed out a laugh.  
You chuckled as your head spun. “Yeah, who needs them?”


End file.
